


Darkness Inside

by evilwriter37



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beating, Gen, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Trauma, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles!Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27415810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Stiles is kidnapped by Theo and Donovan, who want him to be part of their pack.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	Darkness Inside

Theo and Donovan cornered him in the parking lot after school. Well, Stiles had stayed late doing some work in the library, and  _ now  _ they cornered him. They’d clearly been waiting for him.

“What the hell do you guys want?” Stiles asked, trying to seem unbothered, though he was pressed up against his Jeep by the little amount of space they gave him.

“We want you to get in the Jeep, Stiles,” Theo said.

“Yeah, I was kind of going to do that anyway,” Stiles said. “You know, head home without you creeps telling me what to do.”

“No, you’re going to take us with you, and listen to where we tell you to go,” Theo said. 

“And why would I do that?”

Theo extended his claws. “We don’t want to make a mess of you, Stiles, but we will if we have to.” Donovan smiled at him,  _ clearly  _ wanting to make a mess of him. Stiles swallowed, his heart beginning to pound. What did they want with him?

“Where do you want me to take you guys? Starbucks?”

“Don’t give us attitude, Stiles,” Donovan said. He was still wearing that creepy, sadistic smile. “Now get in the Jeep.”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He understood the gravity of the situation. He was being kidnapped, even though he was being made to drive his own car. 

“Fine, fine,” he said. He got in the Jeep, and Theo and Donovan did as well. He’d never wanted to deface his vehicle by having these people in it, but here he was. Theo got in the passenger’s seat while Donovan climbed in the back. Theo’s claws were still out, and as Stiles started up the engine, they pressed against his throat, a very clear threat:  _ Do what we want or die.  _ Stiles didn’t want to die. He would do what they wanted.

Theo gave Stiles directions, and Stiles realized they were heading out of town. God, he really hadn’t wanted to run into these two. Theo’s claws were sharp against his throat, a constant reminder that they had control over him. He was trying not to shake, but couldn’t exactly control that. Whatever they wanted with him would be bad. He just knew it. 

They ended up in the woods. Theo told Stiles to stop the car, and he did, killed the engine, hoping he wouldn’t be killed. They all got out, and Theo grabbed Stiles by the wrist, pulling him along. Donovan followed behind to make sure that Stiles couldn’t run. But running would be stupid. These were chimeras. They were more powerful than him, faster than him. Stiles was nothing compared to them. Just a human.

Finally, Theo seemed to be content with where they were. He stopped, let go of Stiles. 

“Okay, now what do you guys want?” Stiles asked, not at all happy with this. They’d taken him into the middle of the woods, where no one would hear or see anything that transpired. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“We want you to join our pack,” Theo told him. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He seemed confident, even with his claws no longer out.

“Really?” Stiles pointed at Donovan, who was glaring at him. “Because that one looks like he wants to murder me. Great pack dynamic.” He adjusted his hoodie, played nervously with the zipper. “Besides, I’m human. What do you want with me?”

“There’s something in there that we want, Stiles.” Apparently Theo was going to be doing all the talking. Donovan didn’t say much, it would seem. 

“What?”

Theo got a dark look in his eyes, a cruel smile on his lips. “Void.”

Stiles wanted to take a step away from him, but then he would bump into Donovan. He played off his nerves as pretending he didn’t know what they were talking about. How could they know about  _ that? _

“Could you explain?” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Theo stepped closer. “Oh, I think you do, Stiles. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Stiles stopped his façade. Yes, he knew exactly what Theo spoke of, and he wished he hadn’t spoken of it. How did he  _ know? _

“How do you know about that?” Stiles asked. 

“The Dread Doctors are pretty knowledgeable,” Theo answered. 

“You know I don’t have the nogitsune in me anymore,” Stiles said. He wasn’t going to ask about how the Dread Doctors knew about this. They were freakish works of hell, it seemed. 

“You don’t need the nogitsune,” Donovan said, and Stiles turned to him now. “We know what you’re like, Stiles.”

“What? A sassy teenager who just wants some goddamn sleep?”

“A killer,” Theo said. “Or, one in the making. You know it, Stiles. You know about that darkness inside of you. And we’re here to bring it out.”

“How?” Stiles asked. Was he about to meet the Dread Doctors face-to-face?

Theo didn’t answer him, or, maybe he did. Maybe the punch he threw was the answer. It knocked Stiles down onto the forest floor. He got up onto all fours, spitting up blood. Pain throbbed through his face. 

“So you’re going to beat me?” Stiles asked.

That was answered by a kick in the ribs by Donovan. Yes, they were going to beat him. They were going to beat him until he was forced to act and fight back. 

Stiles didn’t want to fight back, not because he didn’t like it, but because he knew he would like it  _ too much _ . He remembered the violence the nogitsune had committed with his hands, remembered the feeling of hot blood on his fingers. 

And he’d liked it. 

So even though the nogitsune was gone, there was still some of Void inside of him. Maybe it was why the nogitsune had picked him in the first place. Maybe it had seen darkness inside of him that it couldn’t find in any of his friends. And that darkness had grown because of the nogitsune, and now it lingered like a foul thing inside of him, a blackness in his mind and his heart.

So they beat him, kicking, punching. Stiles didn’t know if they were using their super strength or not, but oh, it hurt. All the blows really, really hurt. He was bleeding, and he was sure something was broken but he wasn’t sure what. 

“Come on, Stiles!” Theo shouted. “Let it out! Show us Void!”

“No!” Stiles screamed. He wouldn’t let them bring this darkness out of him. He wouldn’t!

But then Donovan kicked him in the face, and he blacked out for a second or two, maybe longer. He came to with blood coursing from his nose, anger surging through him.

“Fine!” Stiles yelled. He got to his feet before anyone could land another blow on him. “You wanna see it?! You wanna see Void?!”

He lunged at Donovan, throwing him to the ground with him on top of him. Donovan was laughing, as if this had been what he really wanted, to be beaten by Stiles. Stiles punched him. The pressure on his knuckles felt good, even as they were torn. He punched him again, and again. Donovan ceased laughing. Stiles held down one of his wrists, though Donovan wasn’t trying to fight back against him. 

And Stiles just pounded at his face. He lost himself in the blows, in the strength he was putting into his arm, in the feeling and sound of flesh hitting flesh. Oh, it was  _ delicious. _ He’d been wanting to do this to Donovan for a long time, especially for threatening his dad. He deserved every punch. 

Someone was calling his name, but he didn’t care. There was just this. Donovan became bloodied underneath him, and he stopped smiling, stopped moving, and Stiles just kept punching. 

Suddenly, a hand caught his arm, claws digging into his wrist. Stiles gave a cry, glared at who dared to stop him. It was Theo, his eyes glowing blue. 

“That’s enough, Stiles,” he said. 

Stiles got up off of Donovan, ready to throw a punch at Theo, but then he stopped himself. He looked at Donovan down on the ground. He was unconscious, eyes swelling up, nose broken, blood coming from his nostrils and his mouth. Was… was he still breathing? 

“Did I kill him?” Stiles asked fearfully. 

Theo let go of Stiles’ wrist, and Stiles put a hand to it to stop the flow of blood. There was blood all over his knuckles, some of it his, but most of it Donovan’s. 

“No,” Theo answered. He looked down at Donovan, nudged his face with his foot. “But I think you came close.”

That made Stiles’ heavy breathing hitch. He’d… he’d almost killed someone. With his bare hands. It didn’t matter if they’d deserved it or not. He’d almost taken a  _ life _ .

“Oh god, oh god.” Stiles felt like he was going to throw up. He looked at the blood on his now weak and trembling hand. He couldn’t believe that a few seconds ago he’d had strength in that hand, and he’d used that strength to attack someone, to basically pound their face in. 

“So, what do you say, Stiles?” Theo asked.

Stiles gave Theo one look, then Donovan another, and he took off running in the direction of his Jeep. Tears blurred his vision. No, no! He hadn’t wanted to do that, hadn’t wanted the darkness in him to be brought out. He’d been trying to ignore it, trying to let it go, but it was still in there, clinging cold to his heart. 

Relief flooded through him when he climbed into his Jeep and looked around. He hadn’t been followed. Good. He revved up the engine, and then was leaving that spot as fast as he could. 

He was lucky he didn’t get a speeding ticket on the way home. He was sure he could get out of one by being the sheriff’s son, but still, he didn’t want to have one in the first place.

There was no other car in the driveway when he got home. Good - he would be alone to wash up all this blood. He rushed into the house, and as he did, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and looked at it. Scott. Scott was the last person he wanted to talk to right now after what he’d done. He let the phone go to voicemail. 

Stiles rushed into the bathroom, began frantically washing his hands. He’d stopped bleeding from his multiple injuries. He didn’t know how he was going to explain those to his dad, but he supposed that could wait. Now, it was getting all of Donovan’s blood off of his hands. 

He scrubbed until there was nothing left, then kept scrubbing. He scrubbed until his skin was raw and he’d reopened the cuts on his knuckles. 

He stopped, realizing he was nearly sobbing, breathing hard, tears streaking his face. He didn’t give a damn about Donovan and his well being. That wasn’t the problem here. What he did give a damn about was what he’d  _ done.  _ It didn’t matter who he’d done it to - it just mattered that it had happened. He’d beaten someone half to death. 

And he’d liked it. He’d liked it far too much, had enjoyed the feeling of his fist hitting someone else, had enjoyed the blood gushing. God, he was horrible. He was a horrible person. Theo was right. Even without the nogitsune, there were bits of Void still in him.

Stiles rushed to his room and closed and locked the door. He could take care of his injuries later. It hurt to breathe, right in his left side, a sign of a broken rib, but that didn’t matter. His own pain didn’t matter after what he’d done. 

Stiles paced despite the pain in his body, ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. He was breathing hard, feeling on the verge of a panic attack. Or maybe he was already having one. He couldn’t seem to stop crying. 

Void. They’d known about Void. The Dread Doctors knew about Void and had told Theo. And now Theo wanted him in his pack because of it. Did that mean that Theo knew about all the death that he’d caused? Allison’s death? The death of multiple deputies? The hospital massacre? It had all been with  _ his  _ hands, even if those hands hadn’t necessarily belonged to him at the time. 

Stiles felt behind his ear. The kanji for self was gone now, but oh, how he wished it was there. He needed a reminder. Maybe he should get it as a tattoo, right behind his ear where it was supposed to be.

But no, now wasn’t the time to think about that. Was he really himself? How could he be if he’d just almost killed somebody?

He had to be though. He wasn’t possessed. The nogitsune was gone. It was  _ gone _ . But he was still left with this darkness, this evil inside of him. And it was all him. It wasn’t the nogitsune. Even without it,  _ he was Void. _

Stiles grabbed his white colored pencil, turned to the board where he had all his theories written down. He frantically erased half of them, or over half, began drawing the kanji for self over and over again. He was himself. He was. 

But that was the problem here, wasn’t it? He was still himself.

The colored pencil broke in the strength of his hand, and Stiles let out a wordless yell, threw it across the room. He ran a hand through his hair again, maybe getting blood in it. He was in desperate need of a shower, or maybe even the hospital, but he couldn’t go in, not like this. The police would be summoned, and they’d ask him what had happened to him. And they’d recognize the wounds on his hand to be from beating someone. No. He couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t even tell Scott.

Stiles grabbed a pair of clothes to change into, then went back to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, probably the hottest he’d ever turned it to. Or, maybe it was the same heat it had been after Allison’s death, when he’d stood under the water and burned himself for what he’d done. Now, he had to do the same thing.

Undressing showed bruises along his body. He poked at his rib, hissed when it just increased the pain. Yep, that was definitely broken. He just hoped it wasn’t a bad break, that he could go on with it not being treated properly.

He climbed into the shower, and oh, how the water burned. He reveled in it though, reveled in the way it pattered intolerable heat against his skin. He cried under the water, and it turned into all out sobbing. God, he was glad he was alone. 

He stayed in the shower till all the blood was gone and his pale skin had turned red. Then he stepped out, looked at the steam on the mirror. He used a shaking finger to again draw the kanji for self. He stared at himself through it, forced himself to meet his own eyes. 

He was himself. 

He was Void. 


End file.
